


'til you come to me

by radialarch



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fake Marriage, M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll do it," Steve says. "I'll marry Bucky."</p><p>(It's because of the Russians.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til you come to me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to [Sara](/users/fallingvoices), for sticking with me even when I tweet things like "so what if steve has to fake-marry the winter soldier" to her in the middle of the night ♥

Their first day home, Bucky sleeps all day in the guest bedroom. Steve walks up to the closed door every two hours and then retreats, trying to give him some privacy.

He’s wondering whether to call Bucky out for dinner when Bucky makes that decision himself, drifting out of the room. His eyes are still dark with tiredness but there’s an alertness to them now, not like when Steve had found him in Portland, lashing out like a wild cat.

“Hi,” Steve says, smiling. There’s mac and cheese cooling on the counter and he sets out two plates. “You hungry?”

Bucky looks at the food with deep longing but all he says is a short, “Yes.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says, and passes him a fork.

Bucky eats with single-minded focus, clearing his plate before Steve’s had time to eat half of his. Then he leans back, fork still clutched in his fingers. He looks at Steve, but doesn’t say a word.

“You can have some more, if you want.” Steve gestures to the dish.

“Okay,” Bucky says, slowly, like he’s surprised. Steve stands up to get Bucky some more and has to pause, his back to Bucky, while he takes in slow deep breaths.

  
   
   
   
 

See, Steve thought they’d have _time_. To talk, to sleep, to learn to be human again.

He'd thought, stupidly, that the world might gently pass them by.

  
   
   
   
 

Natasha comes by on the second day. “Steve,” she says. “The Russians are demanding that the Winter Soldier be extradited.”

Steve sits down abruptly. It takes him a while to speak.

“He’s a citizen,” he says when he remembers how to talk. “He’s an _American citizen_ , they can’t—”

“Think about it, Steve,” Natasha says, putting a hand on his knee. “For that to be true, he’d have to be ninety something years old. It’s easier for everyone to pretend he’s Russian — that he’s always been Russian.”

“There’s gotta be documents,” he says. “Proof that he’s Bucky.”

“Yeah, and we’re looking for it, but in the meantime?” She crosses her arms. “The Russians aren’t going away, Steve. They want their asset back.”

“They can’t have him,” he says, with enough viciousness to surprise himself.

“I know,” she says. “We’ll figure something out.”

  
   
   
   
 

He doesn’t know what to do.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says out loud.

“Neither of us are lawyers,” Sam says. “Don’t you think it’d be better to ask someone trained in this stuff?”

“Who?” Steve asks. “Nobody is trained for this.”

“SHIELD had to do it when you woke up, man,” he points out. “Now, granted, it wasn’t exactly the same situation—”

“I’m not going to SHIELD,” Steve says. “Not if there’s the smallest chance—”

“You’re right,” Sam says reflectively. “We don’t want to have to do this again.” Then he says, “What about that guy, Stark?”

  
   
   
   
 

“Cap!” Tony says when he sees them. “You know, I’ve invited you here like, what, seven times? I should be hurt. I _am_ hurt. Wilson, we have got to talk R &D on those wings.”

Steve had forgotten how exhausting it is to hear Tony talk. “Sorry,” he says. “I was kind of busy.”

“No hard feelings, you’re here now,” Tony says, and he genuinely seems to mean that. “So, what brings you guys here?”

Steve sighs and tries to figure out where to start. “I have a — friend,” he says, “who could use some legal help.”

“ _No_ ,” Tony says, delighted. “Is it drugs? Women? How did this happen, you’ve gotta tell me all about it.”

“No, he actually has a friend,” Sam says dryly. “Not everyone is like you, Stark.”

“Okay,” Tony barrels on, undeterred. “Still. What kind of legal help? There’s a story here, I can smell it.”

Steve looks at Sam. Sam shrugs.

Steve takes a breath and says, “Any of your people practice international law?”

  
   
   
   
 

“I’ve got JARVIS on the HYDRA files,” Tony announces. “If there’s anything out there documenting the Winter Soldier’s origin, he’ll find it. In the meantime—”

“In the meantime, we’ve got the Winter Soldier in Steve’s apartment and the entire world looking for him,” Natasha says. “He can’t hide forever, Steve.”

“I know, I know,” Steve says. “HYDRA’s a concern, but they’re disorganized right now, so we’ve got some time. I’ll deal with the United States government. but the Russians…”

“They’re not gonna give up,” Natasha says. “It’s a chance for them to reacquire a valuable asset.”

Steve flinches, but he knows it’s the truth. It’s how they see him. It’s how HYDRA saw him.

“So how do we stop an extradition?”

“Man, this would be so much easier if we could prove he was a US citizen,” Sam says.

“I’d marry him if I could,” Natasha says. “But I haven’t applied for citizenship yet.”

“You haven’t?” Clint says. “Hasn’t it been like—”

“Eight years,” Natasha says. “I’ve been _busy_.”

“I’ll do it,” Steve says. It’s weak and shaky, and he clears his throat. “I’ll do it.”

“What, take my test for me?”

“No, marry Bucky.”

There’s silence for a moment. Steve is acutely aware of all the eyes on him.

“Are you crazy?” Sam says.

“Steve, I was kidding,” Natasha says.

“Can he do that?” Clint says.

Tony says, “Finally, an idea.”

  
   
   
   
 

“Gay marriage _is_ legal in New York,” Bruce says slowly.

“Right, because that’s our biggest issue,” Clint says.

“There is no issue,” Steve says. His earlier desperation has coalesced into something fierce and burning. “Look, I’ll marry Bucky, and then they can’t extradite him — or, at least, it’ll be more complicated. It gives us _time_.”

“So how does that sound?” Tony asks the lawyer Pepper had sent down, a tall, freckled man.

He blinks at them all and says, very carefully, “I believe the idea has some merit.”

“That’s lawyer-speak for yes, yeah?” Tony says. “All right, Cap. Go marry your high school sweetheart.”

Steve feels himself blushing. “He’s not my—” he starts, then sighs. “Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem. Hey, are you taking Wilson with you?”

  
   
   
   
 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, knocking at the door. Bucky looks up at him.

“Steve,” he says flatly.

“So,” he says, and takes a breath. “The good news is, we think we know how to stop the extradition.”

Bucky just looks at him. He doesn’t look concerned at all.

“The thing is, we’d have to get married,” he says before he can lose his nerve. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” he adds in a rush. “It’s just an idea.”

Bucky shrugs one shoulder — his left one. The plates of his arm settle into place with faint clicks.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Steve repeats.

So that’s how it goes. They’re going to get married and Bucky thinks it’s _okay_.

“I’ll talk to the lawyer,” Steve says, and leaves the room. He sits on his own bed and calls Pepper, trying not to sound like he’s going to throw up.

  
   
   
   
 

Steve wants to go down to city hall and get it over with as soon as possible. Tony vetoes the idea.

“Why not?” Steve asks. “The sooner the better.”

“Please,” Tony says. “You’re getting married, not grocery shopping. There should be a party!”

“Yes, because we _want_ to make a production of Captain America getting married,” Natasha says dryly. “That’s not going to be splashed all over the news.”

“At least wear something that won’t make Pepper cry,” Tony says. “Do you want a tailor? Look, I have a tailor. I have three.”

Steve rubs his face with a hand. “I have a suit,” he says.

“But does your popsicle friend have one?” Tony says pointedly. “And when in his great assassin career did he get one?”

Steve actually can’t say anything to that.

“Get a suit, Steve,” Natasha says with a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

  
   
   
   
 

They go to Tony’s tailor. He takes their measurements efficiently, and doesn’t even comment that Bucky has his left hand in his pocket the entire time.

  
   
   
   
 

Natasha helps them get ready.

“What is this?” Steve frowns at a broad length of cloth. “And why do I need one?”

“It’s a cummerbund,” she says. “Stay still, I’ll put it on.”

It turns out to go around his waist. He has no idea why.

“Looking good, Rogers,” Natasha says, delighted, when she’s finished. “Ready to get married?”

“Very funny,” Steve says. “You know it’s only for show.”

“Still,” she says. “It’s your first marriage, it’s gotta mean something.”

Steve smiles, a little uneasily. He doesn’t want it to mean anything. That would make things … complicated.

“Let’s go see how Bucky’s doing,” he says instead.

  
   
   
   
 

Bucky is dressed impeccably. There are gloves on both of his hands — white. Steve’s mouth goes a little dry at the sight.

“Ready?” Steve asks, clearing his throat.

“Yes,” Bucky says. Then he steps up to Steve’s front. “Your tie,” he says. He raises his hands to tug it into alignment, with short, precise motions.

“Thanks,” Steve says. He feels heat flooding up to his ears and shakes his head to dispel it. “All right, let’s go.”

  
   
   
   
 

Tony had provided them with a car — black, with tinted windows. Natasha takes the front and he and Bucky slide into the back.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Steve asks. “I just want to. Make sure.”

Bucky looks at him like he’s surprised. “You said,” he says. “It was the best way.”

“Yeah. Or. It was the only way we thought of, actually,” Steve says. He thinks for a moment and then says, “This doesn’t have to change anything.”

Bucky looks at him. “Why would it change anything?” he says.

Right. Steve bites his lip. “It wouldn’t,” he says again. “I just wanted — never mind.”

The car slows to a stop. From the front, Natasha says, “We’re here, boys.”

Steve wipes his palms on his thighs and gets out of the car.

  
   
   
   
 

The city clerk asks them for identification, politely. Steve pulls out his driver’s license and has a moment of panic, but Bucky smoothly slides out an ID from his pocket like nothing’s wrong.

Steve glances at it as Bucky’s sliding it across the counter. It says _James Buchanan Barnes_ on it, and the face on it is definitely Bucky’s face.

From across the room, Natasha mouths, “Pepper.” Steve feels a rush of gratitude so strong it nearly makes his knees go weak.

Steve signs the marriage certificate first. He grips the pen hard and presses down on the paper to stop his hand from shaking.

Bucky signs it _James Rogers_ , with his left hand in his pocket.

“Congratulations,” the clerk says. “Now, you two have a waiver for the ceremony?”

“Yes,” Natasha says, and passes a file across the table. “I’ve also got the rings,” she adds.

God, the rings. Something tightens in Steve’s chest. They’re plain, gold. He likes them. He might have even chosen them.

The clerk goes through the vows. Steve says “I do” at the correct part and watches Bucky do the same. They exchange rings; Steve slips his onto his left hand, while Bucky slides it on over his glove.

“Now’s traditionally the time when people kiss,” the clerk says with a smile. “If you’d like.”

Steve is shaking. It’s Bucky who steps forward and wraps one arm around Steve’s waist.

Bucky presses his mouth to Steve’s. It’s very soft, and brief; Steve’s hardly felt it when Bucky is stepping back.

Natasha is clapping. “That was beautiful, guys.”

Steve curls his fingers to hide their trembling. “Thank you,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  
   
   
   
 

It doesn’t change anything. Bucky’s still a stranger, tossing out flat words and then lapsing into silence. He sleeps in the guest room and wakes up in the middle of the night, shouting himself hoarse.

Steve keeps touching the ring on his finger, wondering what he expected.

  
   
   
   
 

The news breaks three days in. There’s a grainy photograph of him ducking into city hall; you can’t see Bucky’s face at all, just the line of his back, but the newspapers are screaming _Captain America Marries a Man_ anyway.

“We should have expected that,” Natasha says. “You’re a national icon.”

“We did expect that,” Tony says. “Pepper’s got someone working on a press release right now.”

Steve stares down at the article. It’s got it all wrong; it frames his roadtrip and subsequent disappearance in terms of the marriage, of a whirlwind love affair.

Yet there’s a kernel of truth to it, after all: because all this time, hadn’t he loved Bucky?

  
   
   
   
 

Steve finds Bucky in the guest room reading a biography of himself. He looks up when Steve knocks, expectant.

“The newspapers found out,” Steve says, shuffling on his feet. “About us getting married. Pepper wants us to go on television and give an interview about it.”

“All right,” Bucky says.

“You sure?” Steve asks. “I mean, this isn’t — they’re expecting us to be. In love.” the last words come out shakily, and Steve can feel himself flushing.

Bucky puts his book face down on the bed. He looks at Steve, and something in his face goes soft. “Hi,” he says. He gets up slowly and puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I missed you.” Then he reaches up to brush his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“How’s that?” he asks, turning disinterested again.

“Um,” Steve says. He’s suddenly very aware of his mouth; he resists the urge to raise his hand up to touch and forces out, “Good.”

“Think of it as infiltration,” Bucky advises, going back to his book. “There’s nothing to it.”

  
   
   
   
 

So that’s how it is.

  
   
   
   
 

The thing is, Steve isn’t worried that it’ll be too hard to pretend to be in love with Bucky. He’s worried it’ll be too easy.

  
   
   
   
 

“One minute to air,” someone yells across the room.

“You ready?” Steve says, looking sideways at Bucky. With his hair cropped short and dressed in a suit, he doesn’t look like the Winter Soldier at all. There’s no way they can connect Bucky to the shaky footage from D.C.

“Relax,” Bucky says, and puts his hand on Steve’s knee — and that’s how they go on air.

“Please welcome Captain America and his new husband,” the interviewer says to the audience. “Thank you so much,” she says to Steve. “And Mr. — what should I call you?”

“James,” Bucky says smoothly. “James Rogers.”

“You took Steve’s last name?” she asks, clearly delighted. “What made you decide that?”

The truth is that it would have been dangerous for him be _Bucky Barnes_. But here, Bucky smiles shyly, touching the back of his neck, and says, “I wanted something of Steve’s.”

Steve forces himself to smile and takes hold of Bucky’s hand. It’s a little damp, but warm, and Bucky laces their fingers together like it’s second-nature to him.

He realizes that they’re asking him something.

“How did we meet?” he repeats. They’d come up with a cover story but he can’t remember it over the feeling of Bucky’s palm against his own. “I.”

“It’s a great story, I wish I could tell you,” Bucky says, giving Steve a fond smile. “Unfortunately, it’s classified.”

“It is,” Steve nods. He’s getting used the way Bucky’s thumb is stroking the back of his hand.

“Steve is very heroic in it,” Bucky says brightly.

The first time they’d met, Steve had been spitting blood on the ground. Bucky had fought off three kids twice the size of him and then hauled Steve home, ignoring the way Steve dripped blood all over his Sunday shirt.

“Not the word I’d use,” Steve says wryly. Bucky reaches up to ruffle his hair, and Steve lets him, ducking his head a little.

And then it’s easy. Bucky does most of the talking, Steve adding in a word now and then, and the audience seems to eat it up.

They hold hands the entire time.

“That was great,” Natasha tells them afterwards. “I’m impressed, Rogers, I thought you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs. “I guess it sort of just happened.”

He looks at Bucky. He’s dropped the act when they entered the car, but his leg is pressed all along Steve’s and Steve thinks he can still feel the way his fingers had brushed his knee.

 _None of that was real_ , Steve reminds himself, and looks out the window.

  
   
   
   
 

Steve wakes up to darkness and a heavy weight next to him in his bed.

“Bucky?” he asks after a moment.

“Some supersoldier you are,” Bucky says. “What if I’d been trying to kill you?”

“Are you?” Steve asks.

Bucky laughs, a low, thin sound. “I think about it every day,” he admits. “I wake up and I see you and some part of my brain—” he takes a breath, loud in the quiet room. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You haven’t,” Steve says. “You won’t, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything to that, just shifts closer so his shoulder is touching Steve’s. “Didn’t we used to do this?” he asks. “Before?”

Before, they had an apartment with the wind rattling through the windows, and they’d pile up all of their blankets on one bed. They slept curled together, Steve’s back to Bucky’s chest, and Steve would wake up warm and content even when the snow fell in drifts outside.

Before, Bucky would get into bed and press his cold feet to the crook of Steve’s knees, and Steve wouldn’t move an inch while Bucky’s skin slowly got warmer and warmer. Steve would complain every time but neither of them would shift, night after night.

Steve doesn’t say any of that. All he says is, “Yes.”

“We’re married, Rogers,” Bucky says, pressing against Steve’s stiff shoulder. “Relax.”

Maybe it’s easier for Bucky, who remembers only pieces of this, _them_. But Steve stays awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of Bucky breathing beside him.

  
   
   
   
 

Time magazine wants to do a spread on “soldiers at home”. Steve sighs and writes down a date in his calendar.

On the day of the interview, Steve wakes up early and skips his morning run. He’s thinking about making pancakes for breakfast, and the doorbell rings before he’s finished making the batter.

Bucky gets the door. There’s a reporter and a cameraman, who come in with murmurs of “Hello”.

Steve is covered in flour. “I’d shake hands,” Steve says, holding his up, “but.”

Bucky hides a yawn behind a hand, but when he speaks he sounds cheerful.

“We just want to observe for a bit,” the reporter says. “Just … go about things normally. Pretend we’re not here.”

“Okay,” Steve says, even though his nerves are tight and fraying. He spoons out some batter into the pan.

Bucky’s got a bowl of blueberries at the table. He’s alternately eating them and flicking them into Steve’s hair. Steve lets him for a while, and then catches the next one without looking and pops it into his own mouth.

“Gotta do better than that,” he says. He doesn’t have to pretend to sound fond.

Bucky stares at him for a moment, and then bursts into laughter: clear, full-throated. He hasn’t heard Bucky laugh like that since — well, for a long time.

It almost doesn’t matter that it’s all for the cameras. Steve looks back and laughs until the pancakes start burning.

  
   
   
   
 

Tony leaves a cryptic message on Steve’s phone.

 _Why didn’t you_ , it says. _Dammit, Cap_.

Steve goes to the tower alone. He asks JARVIS for Tony and is told, “Sir is in a difficult mood right now.”

Tony is in his workshop, sprawled across a bench. Steve smells alcohol as soon as he steps into the room.

“Is anything wrong?” he asks cautiously.

“Oh, lots,” Tony says, and takes another drink. “Global warming. Nuclear proliferation. I could go on.”

“I meant you,” he says, and moves the bottle out of Tony’s reach. Tony glares at him but doesn’t make a move.

“How’s married life treating you?” Tony asks unexpectedly.

Steve shrugs. “He’s my best friend,” he shrugs. “I’d do a lot more than marry him, if it’d help.”

Tony laughs. “Of course you would,” he says. “You’re the Captain of America and apple pie and doing the right thing.” He lapses back into silence.

Steve waits for a while. DUM-E brings him a greasy rag, and he spends the time twisting and untwisting it in his fingers.

“You never told me,” Tony says finally, “what the Winter Soldier did.”

“What they made him do,” Steve says automatically.

“Oh, well, forgive me,” Tony says, and drops his glass. It shatters; DUM-E whirrs up, trying to clean it up with clumsy motions. “Did you know? That they _made him_ kill my parents?”

“Oh,” Steve says in a soft voice. “No, I didn’t.” He can easily imagine it, though: Howard’s picture on a classified file, Bucky’s arm glinting in the glare of the headlights. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Tony repeats. “ _You’re_ sorry.” he lets out a bark of laughter, and then shakes his head. “Don’t listen to me,” he says with a twisted smile. “I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Yes,” Steve agrees. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Tony waves a hand. “I’ll be right as rain in the morning. You people say that kind of thing, right? ‘Right as rain.’”

“Nobody says that, Tony,” Steve says, and watches Tony grin.

“Maybe you’re right,” Tony says. “Now, get out. Be gone. Leave me to brood.”

Steve goes.

  
   
   
   
 

Steve doesn’t tell Bucky about Howard and Maria. Bucky has enough bad dreams in the night without Steve adding to the burden.

  
   
   
   
 

Some days, Steve wakes up in the morning with Bucky’s arm thrown over his chest. Some days, Bucky has his face tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck, his breaths damp against Steve’s skin. Steve looks down at the curve of Bucky’s mouth, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheek and feels the urge to brush a kiss onto Bucky’s forehead.

Those days, Steve lets himself pretend, between his and Bucky’s waking, that what they have between them is something real.

  
   
   
   
 

They’ve both been cooped up in the apartment for weeks. “Let’s go somewhere,” Steve says impulsively over breakfast. “Away.”

Bucky swallows down a mouthful of cereal before he replies. “All right,” he says. “Where to?”

And the trust in his voice drives the breath from Steve’s lungs, for a moment — that Bucky’s willing to do this, abandon everything he knows and follow Steve into the unknown.

“I don’t know,” Steve says. He tries to smile and finds that it comes easily. “Let’s find out.”

  
   
   
   
 

Steve has a spare helmet and a jacket for Bucky. They drag Steve’s bike out of the garage and seat themselves carefully, Steve’s back to Bucky’s chest and Bucky’s hands on Steve’s hips.

“You ready?” Steve says.

“Ride on, Rogers,” Bucky says.

Steve kicks off the ground and guns the engine.

  
   
   
   
 

This is the first time they’ve done this, Steve thinks as the road flashes by. He’s been so focused on Bucky’s old memories — but maybe he needs some new ones, too.

Maybe Steve wants to help him make new memories — wants to be there, every step of the way.

  
   
   
   
 

Near four and a half hours of driving, and they end up in New Hampshire. They stop at a bed and breakfast, sign in as Mr. and Mr. Rogers.

“Enjoy your stay, loves,” the woman at the front counter says warmly. Steve smiles and promises they will.

It’s fall and the colors outside are brilliant. They leave the bike at the inn and walk. They’re not holding hands but their hands brush with every other step.

Steve thinks he’s getting used to the weight of the ring on his finger.

“I don’t really have any plans,” Steve confesses. They’ve stopped walking — Steve is leaning against a big oak tree and Bucky’s sprawled on the ground among the leaves. “I just wanted to get out of there.”

“I know,” Bucky says. He flicks a leaf upward and tracks its motion, head tipped up. “I get it.”

“What would you want to do?” Steve asks. “If—”

 _If you got your memories back. If you weren’t tied to me like this_.

Bucky is silent for a moment. “You know what, Steve,” he says, eyes bright. “I’ve always wanted to see the future.”

  
   
   
   
 

Their room at the inn has one bed. They’ve been sleeping in the same bed for weeks now, but the fact pulls Steve up short just the same.

“I can take the floor,” he says.

Bucky’s just come out of the shower. He’s pink about the nose and toweling his hair off with one hand.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bucky says. “Nobody’s sleeping on the floor.”

It’s different here, Steve thinks when the lights are off and they’ve both crawled under the covers. Easy enough at home to think that it was just soldiers taking comfort in each other. But they’ve left the war behind them somewhere along the highway, and now Steve is all too aware of Bucky’s warmth at his side.

“Good night, Steve,” Bucky says, words blurred with sleep, and brushes his mouth against Steve’s. Casual, almost like he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

“Good night, Buck,” Steve says.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while.

  
   
   
   
 

Steve had left his phone in New York. When they get back, the first text he reads is from Natasha.

_Have you seen the news_

The day’s newspaper is stacked neatly in front of his door. He unfurls it and then swears at the headline: _Has Captain America Married the Winter Soldier?_ There’s a picture accompanying the article: the two of them on the bike, Bucky’s sleeve riding up to reveal the gleam of metal.

Bucky looks over Steve’s shoulder and says, “Well, it couldn’t last forever.”

  
   
   
   
 

“So what’s going to happen?” Steve asks.

“We filed for expedited citizenship based on your military employment,” their lawyer says. “Unfortunately, it is now highly likely that he’ll fail the moral character clause and be denied.”

“Meaning the Russians are free to take him,” Natasha concludes.

“There will be a hearing first,” the lawyer says. “You may try to testify on behalf of Mr. Barnes, explain his situation.”

He doesn’t sound as if he thinks it’ll help. “Yes,” Steve says anyway. “Anything.”

  
   
   
   
 

The first day of hearings, they get to hear about the Winter Soldier’s crimes. Bucky sits in the defendant’s chair, face white, and Steve aches for him, useless in the stands.

Natasha’s sitting next to him, and Sam. Clint is sitting by the door, looking awkward in a suit, and he spots Bruce a few rows in front of him.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asks at recess.

“Said he’s busy,” Natasha shrugs. “Wished you luck, though.”

  
   
   
   
 

He tells the judge that it’s Bucky.

The judge looks sympathetic, but she asks for proof; all he has is his word, and his word isn’t enough, _he’s_ not enough this time—

All the times that Bucky had saved him, but he keeps failing when it matters the most.

  
   
   
   
 

The night before the ruling, Bucky doesn’t come to bed until very late.

“We weren’t together, were we,” he says quietly. “Before.”

Steve thinks about the ring he still hasn’t taken off, and how he’d dropped his shield into the river because he couldn’t bear to lose Bucky again.

“No,” he says. “We weren’t.” he tips his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, asks, “Is that why you—”

_Is that why you married me? Trying to get back something you half-remembered?_

Bucky flips over onto his stomach and throws one leg across Steve’s knees. “ _No_ ,” he says. “I. I wanted to, Steve.”

And then Bucky is kissing him.

Bucky kisses him desperately, like he wants to have all of him, and Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, pulls him in because there should be no space between them, no distinction between _Bucky_ and _Steve_ , just one heart beating for two.

“How did I not see—” Bucky says hoarsely, bringing a hand up to touch Steve’s face. “Steve. _Steve_.”

Steve laughs, a low, wet sound. “Yeah, Buck,” he says. “Me too.”

  
   
   
   
 

“I understand,” the judge says, “that there’s one more witness to be called.”

“Yes, your Honor,” Bucky’s lawyer says. “We call Tony Stark to the stand.”

There are murmurs. Tony looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, but he gives Steve a salute as he crosses the room.

“These documents have been newly entered as evidence,” the lawyer says. “Mr. Stark, please tell us about the so-called Winter Soldier files.”

“These are part of the HYDRA files that my associate, Ms. Romanov, released to the public last May,” Tony says. “They document the creation of the Winter Soldier. Of particular interest to this court might be this bit, where they helpfully tell us that the name of their subject is _James Buchanan Barnes_. Oh, they have pictures, too, let’s take a look at one—”

“Mr. Stark,” the judge says.

Tony, miraculously, shuts up.

  
   
   
   
 

Bucky is ruled non-extraditable. It shouldn’t be a surprise but the ruling makes Steve’s heart leap anyway.

  
   
   
   
 

Steve finds Tony afterwards. “Thank you,” he says. “I mean it, Tony.”

Tony slides his hands into his pockets. “I almost didn’t do it,” he says in a low voice. “I had the files all ready to go, and I just — I was thinking of my parents, you know? But,” he says, straightening up. “whatever. It turns out I’m a good man.”

“You’re barely man, let alone good,” Sam says, grinning.

“Excuse me, I’m human. Prick me, do I not bleed?”

Steve stands in the sun outside the courthouse and listens to Tony and Sam bicker; he can’t seem to stop himself smiling. Beside him, Bucky slips his hand into Steve’s.

“Marry me.” the words come out of his mouth, unplanned. “Properly, this time.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, grinning, slow. “Yeah, I think I will.”


End file.
